


The Best Laid Plans

by laSamtyr



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Family, Gen, holiday celebrations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 07:15:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8880847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laSamtyr/pseuds/laSamtyr
Summary: The House of Finwë and the House of Fëanor celebrate the holidays in happier times.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Isilloth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isilloth/gifts).



> Beta: A special thank you to seleneheart for last-minute, emergency beta work. Any/all remaining mistakes are mine.

~*~*~*~*~

(Prologue)

It started, as so many family reunions do, with an unexpected change in plans. And with many changed plans, the opportunity for disaster often grows exponentially. And so it happened that the Harvest Festival was changed from its usual place at Finwë’s winter home in Tirion to Fëanor’s latest house, for the First Prince had moved many times as his family grew.

~*~*~

Maglor was just walking from the kitchen, eating an apple, when he heard the knocking at the door. He paused for a moment and decided to answer it since no-one else was around.

“Yes?” he said, swallowing his mouthful of apple before answering.

“A message for your sire, my prince.” replied the young Vanya page as he extended the parchment to him.

It was pure mischance that Maglor was distracted by the interplay of the lad’s golden curls on the blue uniform, as it gave him the perfect idea for the missing bridge in the piece he was working on.

“My prince?” the page questioned nervously, for it was widely known by all that Maglor was the most distractable of Fëanor’s sons since anything might give him an idea for a new song.

“Yes,” Maglor said again, taking the parchment in his hand and walking away, managing to leave the door slightly ajar.

The young page hesitated one moment more before deciding to leave. He had safely delivered the parchment into Maglor’s hand; it was good enough. Besides, he had no wish to run into the renowned Fëanor, whose opinion of Vanyar was no secret.

In the meantime, Maglor put the parchment on the highest shelf where it would be safe from his younger brothers and hurried off to work on his music, whistling the new bridge.

~~*~~*~~

A month before the Harvest Festival, Maedhros had been dutifully attending the court sessions in his father’s stead, much to everyone’s secret relief, except, perhaps, Finwë’s. On this day, Grandfather had formally dismissed the court until the next spring session. Maedhros was anxious to return home in order to be the first to hear Maglor’s latest song before it was debuted in public.

“I said, are you leaving soon?” Grandfather asked him. Maedhros started, belatedly realizing he had not been listening.

“Yes, I am.” Maedhros replied. “Maglor is working on a new song. He says it will be a surprise.”

“Perhaps he will play it at the Harvest Feast,” Finwë said. “We are looking forward to celebrating at your new home.”

“Oh. Of course,” Maedhros managed to say at last. It was strange that Mother did not mention anything in her latest letter about this change of plans; even stranger, Father had remained silent. And Father was seldom silent when it came to his father’s second wife and her family.

~*~*~*~

Meanwhile, Nerdanel sighed as she stared at her elevated foot. It was just bad luck that the twins had left one of their wheeled toys in the hall, and she had broken her ankle. She was recovering nicely, using the enforced rest to sketch plans for her next sculpture when her mother bustled in the room.

Both of her parents came to help out when they learned of her injury. Her mother was efficient without being overbearing while her father and Fëanor were busy tutoring Curufin as much as possible to prepare him for his entrance exam into the smithcraft. Though given the boy’s natural talent, no one was worried about his journeyman status; the exam was a mere formality.

“Cook is planning to take the next few days off and be with her family. Is there anything special you wish to ask her before she leaves?”

“I can’t think of anything, Mummy.” Nerdanel said absently, still absorbed by her sketch. “Unless you have some suggestions?”

“I have already tripled the usual order from the grocers in town,” her mother replied briskly.

“Why?” Nerdanel asked, putting down her sketch. She felt the hair on the back of her neck begin to raise. “There has been no message from the king.”

“I have a feeling.” Her mother smiled distantly at her.

Nerdanel blanched but her mother was seldom wrong about such things. Fëanor would not be happy when he discovered they had company.

~*~*~*~

Fëanor was never pleased to be interrupted at his forge, even less so when dealing with the household. On the other hand, Nerdanel would not interrupt without good reason.

“Husband, I believe your father is coming for a visit.”

“Is he now?”

“Yes. Probably for the Harvest Feast.”

“I did not receive any such message,” he growled.

After a brief discussion, they began to question the servants and it soon became apparent that none of them had received any messages. That left only one other person.

“Maglor!”

Maglor finally arrived in Nerdanel’s sitting room and looked curiously at his parents.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Did you receive any message from Grandfather? Think hard, Maglor.”

“Erm.”

But Maglor was distracted by a rainbow of lights on the far wall, caused by the prisms Fëanor created in a failed experiment. They had been pretty though, so he gifted them to his wife for decorations. They now inspired a series of musical notes to Maglor’s eyes, as he began to whistle a new tune.

Fëanor sighed and pinched his nose. This could take awhile. Finally, after a great deal of patient coaxing and retracing of steps, Maglor remembered where he had put the missing message. Smiling, he handed it to his father and promptly wandered off.

Fëanor groaned as he saw the layer of dust on the parchment and took it to his wife’s room. It was better that they learn the news at the same time. As he broke the seal and opened it, he stared at the letter in shock. He handed it to Nerdanel.

“They’ll arrive in two days.”

~*~*~*~

Two days later, the faint rumble of a single coach grew louder as Finwë drew up in the courtyard. 

Fëanor jumped out of bed, looked out the windows and threw on a dressing robe as he raced down the stairway to greet his father.

Nerdanel, on the other hand, pulled the covers over her head and moaned. It was going to be a very long day.

“Father!” Fëanor called as he quickly embraced the older man, kissing him lightly on the cheek.

“My son,” Finwë replied, smiling as he brushed a loose strand of hair back from his firstborn’s face. “It seems I have arrived early.”

“Come, let us break the morning fast,” Fëanor said as he escorted his father inside. “All is in readiness.” 

And so it proved. The long sideboard groaned under the weight of the chafing dishes, while urns of coffee and tea sat at each end. The two men filled their plates with their favorite food.

They sat down to a leisurely breakfast, keeping their voices quiet as they exchanged the latest news of Tirion. When they could not linger over their morning coffee any longer, Finwë was the one to speak first.

“Why don’t you let me fix your hair, Fëanáro? It looks as if you have not brushed it in days.”

They went to Fëanor’s study where an extra set of brushes and combs were kept since Fëanor was insistent on always being well-groomed. Finwë seated himself on a bench while Fëanor knelt on the floor and rested his head on his father’s knee. Finwë gently drew the brush through the thick black hair, and smiled down at his son. Quiet times like this were all too rare between them now. It seemed as if the boy had nearly dozed off but Finwë knew he could waken at a moment’s notice.

Fëanor, for his part, luxuriated in his father’s presence. His sharp ears caught the steady beat of the king’s heart, the regular sound of his breathing. Fëanor’s deepest unspoken fear was that his father would somehow be lost to him as his mother had been and it was this that caused a great deal of his jealousy toward his father’s second wife and family.

~*~*~*~

Due to a long wait caused by an unexpected flock of sheep being driven to another pasture, the coaches that carried the rest of Finwë’s family did not arrive until mid-afternoon.

For once though, Fëanor was almost charming as he greeted them. He had spent the morning and a large part of the afternoon having his father to himself, so he was in a rare, expansive mood.

“Uncles,” he said, bowing slightly to Ingwë and Olwë, before nodding to the rest. “Madam. Ladies. Siblings.”

~*~*~*~

Nerdanel was pleased to discover that Indis and the others arrived with several large hampers of food to be added for the banquet the next day. But she was considerably less than pleased to have to plan sleeping arrangements on short notice.

Indis had also presented her with a new board game which was “all the rage” in Tirion. The children could play it, the queen enthused, entertaining themselves for hours and best of all, not disturbing the adults. Privately, Nerdanel was skeptical about these claims. There were times when she wondered if Indis was really understood children at all. She could only hope the visit did not end in yet another feud.

~*~*~*~

The next day, everyone sat down to enjoy the feast which was served at midday rather than the evening. Surprisingly, things remained relatively calm and quiet during the meal. Afterwards, when the dishes had been cleared and the food put away, the family broke up into three large groups.

The ladies were soon engrossed in a civilized game of whist in Nerdanel’s private drawing room, while, Finwë, Ingwë, Olwë and Mahtan played bridge in the library. All had learned from experience that it was best to avoid having couples play the same game or even be in the same room.

Meanwhile, Fëanor and his half-brothers were in his study, engrossed in a cutthroat, no-holds barred poker game.

The ‘children’ took the board game out to the veranda. Maedhros, being nominally in charge, decided it would be easier to split into teams while he bade Maglor to watch the twins and the younger ones.

But as the day grew later and the younger children began fussing, Maglor took them into the nursery. He tuned his harp while they watched with round eyes and began to play a new lullaby, singing gently and very soon all were fast asleep. Maglor continued to brush the harp strings, not realizing just how well the sound carried throughout the house.

The afternoon turned to evening, and everyone wandered away to sleep.

The next day, after breakfast, the carriages were once more readied while goodbyes were said and at last, only Fëanor and his family remained to see the last carriage off. Fëanor turned and went to his forge, followed by Curufin and Mahtan.

 

And so ended one of the last family gatherings of the House of Finwë.

 

xxxEndxxx

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Fëanor’s use of the word ‘uncle’ for Ingwë and Olwë is that of an honorific rather than implying a defined blood relationship.


End file.
